


i paint you in the corner of my mind

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [10]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Sex Somewhere Other Than a Bed, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Teacher!Bellamy, artist!Clarke, character's first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: After Clarke Griffin’s parents die in a house fire, the courts determine that it’s best for her to grieve and recover away from the city she’s grown up in. So she moves from the industrial city of Polis to the rural wetlands of Arkadia to live with her uncle, Marcus Kane. But when the sadness and mourning remain, he deems it necessary to acquire her a companion.Both as a teacher and a friend, Bellamy Blake is an unexpected addition to her new life. And there’s something about him that also ignites new feelings within her that she can only pray that he reciprocates.This fic was nominated in the Bellarke Fic Awards 2020 for "Best Romance Fic (Less Than 10,000 Words)"
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524449
Comments: 18
Kudos: 141
Collections: Chopped: After The Kitchens Close





	i paint you in the corner of my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Chopped: The 100’s After the Kitchens Close challenge! The overall goal is to write a smut fic with the theme and tropes being left up to us.
> 
>  **My theme:** Romance.
> 
> **My tropes:**
>   1. Strangers to Lovers  
> 
>   2. Character’s First Time  
> 
>   3. One Character is a Teacher  
> 
>   4. Doing it Somewhere Other than a Bed
> 

> 
> This is like the complete opposite of “Porn Without Plot.” It’s shockingly plot-filled for something that is based on the idea of smut. I’m so sorry (not really but ya know, gotta make you wait for it like Clarke). Title is from the song "Hallucinations" by PVRIS.
> 
> _Also for your own personal visual reference, this world exists in a hint of Victorian steampunk mixed with elements of Southern Gothic(ish). Not crucial to the story, but just the vibe I had in mind while writing it._

Clarke Griffin had felt like she was floating outside of her body for the entirety of her trip from the city of Polis to the expansive, rural town of Arkadia. The train had left the station in a plume of dark steam, gears screeching and grinding against each other as its engine began to churn. Her eyes had glazed over as they passed through cramped, towering structures that made up the city. Twisted gray iron and ruddy copper blurred together as the train sped up, blending together in her unfocused gaze. 

The haze of the industries at the city’s border bloomed black and red against the sky and it reminded her so much of fire, that she jerked back and slumped deeper into her seat so as not to look out the window anymore. 

She barely watched as the uneven landscape smoothed out into rolling hills and then into the low country. Arkadia was more or less built near a swamp, too far from the ocean but not inland enough to be completely wooded and agriculturally-based like Sanctum. The window fogged up as the cooler climate turned humid, but Clarke’s eyes remained unfocused and distant. Upon arriving at Arkadia’s station, she did her best to shake it off but if the driver who met her noticed, he didn’t remark on it. She hadn’t really expected that her uncle would be there to pick her up in person, but having it confirmed only increased her vague sense of impending solitude here. 

Uncle in name only, Marcus Kane was a family friend of her parents who agreed to look after her through all of this. Though she was just shy of her twentieth birthday, the courts all agreed that after everything she had gone through it was their recommendation that she live elsewhere for now. The funerals were wrapped up but the amount of paperwork was insurmountable. 

Plus there was an unspoken concern about her mental health after surviving something like that, but the daughter of Councilwoman Abby Griffin couldn’t just be sent off to an unknown place until she was deemed okay to live on her own. 

So when Kane had heard what had happened, he was more than happy to offer her a room at his home. Away from the industrial chaos of Polis, everyone agreed a change of pace would be good for her.

It was preposterous to think that she was still being treated like a child, but Clarke had a hard time dissuading people about the idea.

She couldn’t even convince herself that it was a bad idea once she realized that she couldn’t bring herself to make her own meals anymore. 

Packing was easy when nearly everything you owned had gone up in flames, so it was with just a small leather trunk and a satchel of art supplies that she arrived in Arkadia. The driver helped her into the car and the one-way trip began. 

The road to her Uncle Kane’s home was long and winding, lulling Clarke back into a haze. This time though, she kept her eyes on their surroundings. 

An evening mist was rolling in, shrouding the bald cypress trees that rose up alongside the road. Their low hanging branches swayed gently and she could almost imagine the way they kissed the murky water they grew from. She wondered if how the water looked was a way to describe what she felt inside. 

Eventually a large white house appeared on the horizon, rising up amongst the trees at the end of the long rocky dirt road. White columns, tinged with moss and dirt at their bases soared into the sky towards the roof. She’d heard of her Uncle Kane’s wealth, though she didn’t quite understand what his role as Chancellor deemed for this area, but it was impressive to see it in person. As she stepped out of the car, her neck craned back to take it all in.

Then she was being ushered up the stone steps that arched in a half circle to lead her up to the house and the peacefulness of the nature outside was broken as she crossed the threshold.

“Marcus, she’s here!”

Clarke blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the interior just in time to see two people walking towards her. 

The man she immediately recognized as Kane, though he had some more gray hair in his beard than she remembered. Next to him was a shorter, smiling woman with gray hair that had a hint of past red tones in it. 

Kane quickly embraced her and in his hug she recognized the same scent of ink and tobacco that she had been fascinated by as a child. It gave her a moment’s peace to smell it again. Just as he always did, his hug was brief and to the point as he greeted her.

As soon as Kane stepped back, the woman moved into Clarke’s view and enveloped her in a tight hug. Hesitantly, Clarke returned it. 

“I’m Vera, my dear, Kane’s mother,” the woman said warmly, cupping Clarke’s face before she realized what was happening. “Marcus, the poor girl looks exhausted. We should have paid for a first class ticket on the train so she could have slept better.” 

Clarke wasn’t able to interject and say that she had been fine where she had sat, and neither was Kane who let his mother continue to ramble about the discomforts of train travel. His eye caught Clarke’s and he gave her a small, secret smile as if to laugh at the smothering. She did her best to return it but she could tell based on his expression that she didn’t. 

“I’m sure she’ll be fine in no time,” Kane said after a beat, redirecting his gaze to Vera. “But we don’t need to overwhelm her right away.” He shifted back to Clarke. “My mother lives just a little ways away but she wanted to make sure that she was here for your arrival.”

Vera gave her son a light slap to the arm. “And since this one is prone to losing himself in his work, I had to make sure that _someone_ was here to greet you.”

“Would you like to join us for dinner? I know it’s a bit early for you but we weren’t sure with the timing of it all.”

The two voices swirled around her and Clarke felt woozy at the sudden stimuli around her. Even though the sounds of Polis were louder and more consistent, she was used to them enough to let them blend in the background of her life. Here, the deafening silence was instead just filled with talking that was currently being directed at her. It was more than she could handle. 

She mustered an appreciative smile onto her face.

“It’s okay with you both, I’d actually like to get some sleep. Long journey and all,” she finished with a mumble, praying they wouldn’t find her to be rude.

Apparently though when your parents die in a horrible fire and you travel for hours by train to get to your new home, people are more forgiving than they might have been in normal circumstances.

In a sudden flurry, mixed with apologies and assurances, Kane managed to nearly pull a maid out of thin air to collect her one suitcase and Vera had told her five times that she’d make sure to leave some leftover food behind so that she would be able to eat whenever she was hungry. Clarke was fairly certain she replied with words of her own, but everything was becoming foggy again and she was having flashes of dinner at the Griffins, where her father would shout with glee as her mother brought out a dish, even if it was burned. Where he’d tug on her braid and asked what she had been up to and then later they all discussed the future of steam-based engineering. 

But they weren’t here anymore and an uncle who she hadn’t seen in years was gesturing to a strange young woman and unknown hallway, while his mother held more maternal instincts than her own mother had but somehow she was already drowning in it.

As the maid led her to her room, Clarke felt her body begin to collapse on the inside. Her throat felt closed up as she swallowed back the tears that were threatening to burst out of her. Aching in her chest made her fight to remain upright and it took everything in her to nod politely to the woman before closing her door quickly. 

She didn’t bother to look around, to take in what her new room looked like, instead just collapsing onto the bed in the center and succumbing to the tears.

When her parents hadn’t been able to be recovered from the burning building, the firefighters could barely hold her back as she screamed into the night. 

When she’d seen the headlines on the streets, about the gruesome but mysterious deaths of two of Polis’ best, she’d been made of ice to maintain her composure. 

For two weeks, while everything had been sorted out and everyone had tried to figure out what to do with her, she hadn’t shed a single tear.

But now –– so far away from the ashen bricks that had once been her home –– she felt herself break. 

Sobbing wracked her body and she took comfort in the fact that Kane’s room was in the opposite wing of the house, leaving her alone on this side without needing to silence herself. The tears were gut-wrenching, pulling from deep within her as she sobbed into her pillow.

The moon had been long risen, casting a pale stripe on her floor, before she finally fell into an exhausted slumber. 

* * *

Time moved oddly after her arrival in Arkadia and Clarke struggled to push through the slog of each day. 

It turned out that simply relocating oneself didn’t immediately cure any sort of sadness or mourning. 

Indeed, after that first night of crying herself to sleep, Clarke had a difficult time coming out of her room. Nightmare after nightmare plagued her, fire cascading around her. Sometimes she woke in a sweat, blankets twisted around her or completely on the floor. Other mornings she woke up screaming, terrifying the few maids who came to the house early in the day. Because of her trouble sleeping, she found it the perfect excuse to stay in bed for the majority of the day, using the light to hopefully catch up on a dreamless precious few more hours of sleep in the daylight. 

When she wasn’t struggling to sleep, she did her best to work on her art. The lightly colored skirts that Vera bought for her to combat the oppressive humidity collected smatterings of paint smears on them. Most of the canvases around her remained only partially finished, while she sat listlessly on the window seat with an empty sketchbook in front of her. 

Kane’s job kept him out of the house most of the hours of the day, which she told herself was another reason to just hide in her room. As beautiful as the house was, it felt more like a museum than anything else. Nothing in Polis stayed its original color so to be surrounded by so much white was startling for her. Almost unsettling. 

But maybe it was just her insides that were unsettled, still churning at the constant realization that she was now the last Griffin.

While Vera still came over occasionally, an event which usually dragged Clarke out of her room regardless of how she was feeling, Kane was more patient with her. He seemed unconcerned with how much time it was taking for her to process her grief and primarily made sure that she ate at least a little bit and had anything she asked for, even if it was insignificant. In return, she promised to at least occasionally show up for dinner (it was more of a promise to herself so that she could practice functioning again). 

Dinners fell into a few different categories. For the early part of her time there, Clarke picked at a tray that had been brought to her room. Then once she decided she owed it to Kane to make an appearance now and then, ensuring that she changed clothes and brushed her hair, dinner became a simple affair in an oversized dining room. 

They sat on the same side of the room because it would be silly not too, but Clarke appreciated the comfortable silence between them. Kane wasn’t much of a talker and she could remember times when she’d watch him listen as her dad ranted about the government, a smile on his face as he let his friend spill his thoughts out however they came. But she was more like Kane, so the two of them sat quietly together more often than not. 

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve gone ahead and set up for an in-house tutor to come stay with us for a while,” Kane said suddenly one night she was down there. He said it so matter-of-factly that it took Clarke a few moments to register what he had said.

“A tutor? I’ve already completed my schooling,” she responded slowly, her eyebrow arching in curiosity. Kane would have certainly known about her schooling from her parents. 

“Yes, I’m aware. There’s no reason you can’t learn more though while you’re here and I think he would be suitable for both teaching you as well as being…”

He caught her changing expression as he was mid-sentence. At his words she felt like she was sinking back into herself and a petulance arose. 

“I don’t want a tutor, nor do I need one, so I would like you to be honest with what you expect out of this. Especially with a male teacher.” 

It was possibly the most firm she had been with him since her arrival, but she didn’t feel any shame in her stubbornness. She hadn’t taken him for a man who supported the idea of an arranged marriage, but to simply decide she needed a tutor was out of place and she suspected he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. 

Kane placed his fork down with more control than she expected him to have and he finally looked at her seriously. 

“A companion, Clarke. You need a companion, a friend. I can’t leave my work unattended otherwise I’d be more than happy to spend time with you. And while I love my mother dearly, I can’t subject you to being a doll to her if my aim is for you to feel more like yourself again.” His tone was borderline frustrated but she could still sense the earnestness to what he was saying. “I’m not bothered by societal customs and see no reason that it can’t be a man, and I’d prefer it to be someone I trust. I know the women of Arkadia and while they are fine company at parties, I have no doubt you’d quickly grow tired of them. Bellamy is capable of being both engaging as well as educational, so I feel that he is best suited for a friendship with you.”

Now that Kane was being shockingly honest with her, Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of it. When she didn’t immediately rebuke him, Kane nodded his head slightly and resumed eating the meal in front of him. 

Sensing the conversation was over, at least for now, Clarke sighed and looked back at her plate. She’d eaten over half of it so far, more than normal. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong. It was exhausting to be exhausted and there had been a time when she had been sociable. And she did like learning as well, so maybe there was a chance this wouldn’t be so bad after all. If it turned out that this tutor he was thinking of was awful, well then she’d just keep hiding in her bedroom until she became a part of the furniture she never left. 

* * *

The arrival of Bellamy Blake to the Kane household ended up being an unexpected one, at least for Clarke. 

Telegrams took far longer to get out here than in Polis, so all they knew was roughly the week he’d arrive and that had been about it. Clarke had held the piece of paper in her hand longer than she had meant to after reading its contents. It had been brief, straight to the point. Was that the nature of the type of correspondence or was it the personality of her soon-to-be friend? Her fingers traced over the ink as if to capture what he had been feeling while he’d created the message.

It told her nothing in the end.

With the unpredictable nature of everything, it then meant that Clarke was out wandering the grounds the morning that he came. 

Since the announcement of having a companion, she’d made a somewhat better effort at coming out of her room. The pull was still there, to remain in her bed all day and stare at the ceiling. But the half-finished paintings were beginning to taunt her and the endless nights of crying had left a tiredness in her bones that even her nightmares couldn’t get past, giving her a few nights in a row of at least decent sleep. 

Armed with her sketchbook and a freshly filled nib pen, Clarke made the executive decision that day to try and draw some of the scenery around the grounds. She had some time before afternoon tea since Kane wasn’t in the office today, so figured he’d appreciate being able to see some of her work afterwards. She wanted to show him that maybe there was a possibility of her beginning to feel better. 

She’d lost track of time out there, soaking in the sunshine with the realization of how rare it was for her to have experienced it back home. Her hair fell back in a tangled braid as she moved from spot to spot, quickly sketching in rough outlines of everything and everything. She was in the process of trying to see where a mouse had just disappeared to when a pair of black boots came into her vision. Startled, she jerked back into a more upright position. 

“Oh!”

Clarke blinked in surprise at the sight of a man standing in front of her. This must be Bellamy Blake. He was younger than she was expecting, only a few years older than her if she guessed. His hair was a mess of wild, tousled black curls that seemed to have been exasperated by traveling. With his dark brown vest with brass detailing, his attire reminded her of the fashion in the city, though his rolled up sleeves to his elbows were a hint more distracting than they should have been. 

But more than that was his lopsided grin, almost a playful smirk, as he equally observed her.

“You must be Clarke Griffin,” he said easily after her surprise had worn off. She was pleased that he held out his hand for her to shake – clearly someone who was keeping up with current customs. 

She returned his handshake. “And you’re the famous, Bellamy Blake.”

He laughed at that, white teeth flashing against his warm, freckled skin. Her hand had disappeared into his in the handshake before he let it go, ruffling his hair with it as if he didn’t know what else to do with it. 

“I hope you’ve only heard good things, though Kane has known me long enough I imagine there’s room for some bad ones.”

That information was surprising to Clarke and when she voiced it, he nodded to their side. 

“I actually grew up on the grounds here. My mother worked in the house and when she was kicked out of the place I was born in, Kane offered to let us live on the property. Pretty much grew up here until I left to go to school.”

The two of them began to make their way back towards the house as Bellamy continued to talk. 

“So you mother and father don't mind you coming out here? Away from your family?” She asked lightly, trying to picture the family he came from.

Bellamy let out a slight cough.

“My mother is actually dead. She died a few years ago, I never knew my father and by all accounts from her stories, he’s most likely gone as well. My sister is exploring her own freedom right now so I’m more than sure that she’s happy to have me away for the time being.” 

“Then we’re in a similar situation ––” Clarke started to say before falling silent. She cast a quick glance at Bellamy. She wasn’t sure how much he knew of what had happened. Why she was here and the death of her parents. He didn’t look at her with the same odd sympathy that everyone else did, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he just didn’t know.

But Bellamy nodded, giving her a long side glance before continuing to walk ahead. There was a sense of understanding in his eyes that made a tension in her melt away before she even knew it was happening. 

With most people, death was a conversation ender. 

It didn’t appear to be with Bellamy though.

“Even though it’s different to be here without them, I am excited to be back again. And this time actually be able to fully appreciate everything here. The library, the artifacts. I’m fortunate Kane enjoys collecting things I’d never be able to otherwise get to experience.”

“And now you also get to teach me a few things,” Clarke responded teasingly. 

He laughed. “Most of my students are much younger than you, Miss Griffin. And have never had an education in their life. You’re going to be quite the exception.”

“And have you been paid to be any of their friends?”

She wanted to broach the subject now, get it out of the way. There was no skirting around the issue that he was being paid to be her companion since her isolation and sadness was losing its acceptance. 

Bellamy shook his head at the question, looking back over to her.

“That’ll also be new,” he said, “though I have a feeling already we’ll become very good friends.” 

“Well,” Clarke replied slowly as they neared the back patio, “if we are to become friends then –– companions –– I’d prefer for you to call me Clarke.” 

It shouldn’t have felt as personal as it did, to tell him to call her by her given name. But with Kane so busy with work and having been hiding in her room for so long, she had a sharp desire to just be Clarke. To not be Miss Griffin, the orphaned young woman who was looked at with deep pity. She wanted to be Clarke the artist with Bellamy the teacher. 

He smiled at that. It was softer than his earlier grins and when he looked down at her, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of a blush on her cheeks. 

“It’ll be my pleasure.” 

The backdoors to the house swung open with a, “Bellamy! You’re here! And you’ve already met Clarke, excellent.” 

Kane gestured for them to both come back inside, giving Bellamy a hearty handshake and a clap on the shoulder as he passed him. It was odd to see him interact with this stranger so personally, which she supposed made sense now. No wonder Kane had trusted him to come here. It made Clarke briefly wish that she had been able to visit her as a child versus Kane always coming to Polis. Maybe she’d already have a friend in Bellamy.

One of the maids had just finished setting up for tea and the three of them all sat down. Clarke let the two men catch up, letting herself pick up information from their conversations. Mainly to observe Bellamy. He was striking, but he had a relaxed nature that put her at ease for someone she had just met. Not a common thing she usually experienced. Already he seemed to have brought a spark into the house that it felt like Kane needed as well, his questions carrying on topics that both Clarke and Kane would have not thought to discuss. He seemed to have a way with both of them and she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by him. 

It certainly helped that, even in the daze she’d found herself in the last few weeks, he was incredibly good looking.

“And Bellamy, your room should be ready so just let myself or one of the servants know that you’re ready and they’ll show you to it,” Kane said with a smile, interjecting Clarke’s thoughts.

He completely missed Clarke’s effort to school her face into a neutral expression.

It had completely slipped her mind that Bellamy would be staying in the house with them as well. She could only pray that she wasn’t blushing as she hid her face behind a long sip of tea. Why she was so flustered about the idea was beyond her, but it still required a few more minutes before she could return to the conversation with her uncle and the stranger that was to become her friend.

* * *

It turned out that Bellamy and Clarke did make for good friends.

As much as Clarke knew she didn’t need a tutor, she’d received an excellent education thank you very much, Bellamy had a basis of knowledge that was new to her. On the days that were still hard for her to get out of bed, she could find him in one of the drawing rooms surrounded by books and he’d let her lay on the couch beside him while he talked. It was his soothing voice that kept her from spiraling on those days. 

He also began to encourage her to create more art on days when she had more energy. Taking advantage of her improved moods and his encouragement, Clarke did just that. He showed her more of the grounds, pointing out areas that he and Octavia had scampered about chasing after each other. He explained the different plants around them (though he admitted he learned most of them from his childhood from Monty). She took clippings of her favorites that he showed her and kept them pressed in otherwise long-forgotten books around the house.

She didn’t tell him that most of them were mainly his favorite ones too.

Because that was the thing about Bellamy, she discovered. 

His enthusiasm was contagious and suddenly it was like she had always cared about history. Not in a sense of faking it like she had with Lexa’s zealous interest in politics, but a genuine fascination. The way he spoke about it, in a way that was easy for her to understand, opened up worlds for her. When he pointed out his favorite flower, describing how it looked tucked behind his mother’s ear, she could see every detail and why it was his favorite flower. 

Kane was more than pleased with himself about setting the whole thing up. His pride made Clarke chuckle but she did make sure to thank him when she could. Bellamy’s friendship had become invaluable to her.

There was just one small issue that was increasingly becoming a larger one though.

She’d had nightmares and she’d had sleepless nights, but the first time Clarke woke from a different type of dream it had been with a jolt. The pulsing in her womanhood had been stirred up by a particularly passion-filled dream where a pair of large, tan hands had been the star.

That had been a difficult day of learning for her as Clarke watched Bellamy sort through letters he had been collecting to study. The size of the ones in her dream appeared to have been accurate and she was distracted for much too long by the realization that it had been her best friend who had appeared to her in her sleep. 

The sex dreams were sporadic but it made her aware of how much of Bellamy’s physicality she had taken in. Maybe it was the artist in her. But she was now hyper-conscious of his size, his frame taking up space in the rooms they were in. The way his curls moved against his hair and the way the veins in his arms appeared as he helped Kane re-situate the grand piano for one of Vera’s visits. She discovered a particular fascination with the scar above his lip, having to stop herself from gently tracing it one evening when he leaned in to whisper something to her. 

During that initial time after her parents' passing, Clarke had forgotten entirely how to feel. While during the weeks that followed Bellamy’s arrival she felt her emotions begin to return, this had been the last one she had expected. She’d almost forgotten that she was a sexual human being, that she could feel desire. 

The dormant need for human touch was something she first wrote off as being due to Bellamy’s proximity. For nearly two months at this point, they’d seen each other every day. Spent hours together, getting to know each other. 

So she expected the feelings to fade after a while, but they didn’t. And her love of hearing him talk about things only increased. Her desire to stay in her room had entirely disappeared and it was a comfort to be in his presence. What she had assumed was a fleeting desire for a sexual relationship hadn’t faded and only increased with her want to continue to be around him. 

And that was when Clarke realized she had completely fallen for him. 

* * *

Approximately two months since Bellamy’s arrival and a couple of weeks since her realization of how she felt about him, Clarke knew she had to say something.

It was a late afternoon and they’d been inside nearly all day avoiding the late summer heat. She hadn’t been able to get much of her painting done, too distracted watching him pour over a new book Kane had brought home from a recent trip. But it was also because of the way he had just earlier been watching her paint. He’d stood behind her, hands delicately touching her back as he’d leaned over her shoulder to observe. The rakish grin he’d given her as he’d complimented it with his face all too close to hers.

He had to feel the same way about her, he had to.

“Bellamy, can I ask you something?”

The bravery that took command of her to get the words out was something she didn’t know she had in her. But she’d actually said it and he looked up at her.

“Of course, you can ask me anything you like.”

“Do you have feelings for me?”

The only sound of the room was the sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The longer he stayed silent the more anxious she became. When it became too much, she jerked away from her painting supplies to stand up. Mirroring her from across the room, Bellamy did the same. 

“I wasn’t brought here to court you Clarke, and you’ve been grieving. It’s not my place.” Bellamy dodged her question artfully.

Clarke drew herself up to her full height, fighting to keep her voice from wavering. “I asked if you have feelings for me. I might have misconstrued your actions, but I hope mine have been clear enough. Just in case they weren’t though, I shall clarify my own. I feel a great deal towards you as more than a friend. I’d hoped that you felt the same. Have you unintentionally misled me or have I completely missed your intentions as actually just platonic?”

“I haven’t misled you, nor would I classify anything between us as just platonic. But that’s not the point here,” he muttered, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. He wouldn’t look at her and she narrowed her eyes.

“Saying something isn’t the point isn’t the same thing as saying it’s not true,” she argued back. But then she deflated at his refusal. “So you won’t admit to feeling something for me?” 

She hoped she didn’t sound as pitiful as she felt, looking up at him with growing frustration. 

Bellamy rubbed his hands anxiously across his face. She knew she was pushing him with this right now but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t believe that after all of this time she had misconstrued his feelings for her and his inability to actually deny them made her all the more confident that she was right.

But it also made it all that much harder to watch him refuse to admit it to her. 

“I can’t Clarke, your uncle-–”

Ah. So that was it. 

He was scared to somehow displease Kane, which she couldn’t blame him for. But she wasn’t a child who needed permission. She wasn’t even a ward of her uncle, she was an adult woman who had come to live with him while she regained the balance her life needed after her parents' deaths. And the idea that Bellamy couldn’t see it as that hurt.

An unbidden thought came to mind then. What if now that Bellamy knew her feelings, and since he had no plan to act on his, he would choose to withdraw from their friendship? Would they lose the casualness they had with each other, the intimacy that had allowed her to remember when it felt like to be a person again? 

Would it get to the point where he would leave Kane’s home in order to remove himself from her presence?

The very idea of it made her gasp for breath, her anxiety suddenly closing in on her. She couldn’t let herself think about the idea of losing him. Even if not in death, it would be one more person she cared about leaving her. 

Desperate, she immediately began to hurry towards the door. 

She had to get out.

She had to get away from this house that was feeling like it was closing in on her and the suffocating fear that she had just scared Bellamy off for good.

The door swung open and she was outside before Bellamy had fully figured out what she was doing.

Not that she even fully knew, her feet moving on their own accord as she raced across the porch and down onto the grass. Her room wasn’t far enough; she had to be outside. Let her emotions explode where she couldn’t be contained. She subconsciously followed the path that she and Bellamy walked some mornings, her body hurtling forward as quickly as she could.

“Clarke!”

Bellamy’s voice carried across the grounds to her and she sucked in her breath as she ran. He had followed her outside and she could almost see him without turning around, clutching the railing of the porch as he watched her get further from the house. A spark of playfulness broke through her frustration and swirling emotions.

Would he chase after her? Was the railing between him and the grounds going to hold him back from her or was he going to come after her? 

She didn’t look to find out.

This was both a game and also her biggest fear, to know that he would end up leaving her alone after all of this and let her disappear into herself. So she couldn’t look to see, to see if she would be enough for him, and she kept running. She ran, she ran, she ran.

While she still tried to process where exactly she was running towards, Clarke suddenly felt a raindrop on her cheek. A quick glance up showed encroaching darkness as storm clouds rolled overhead. In her hurry, she’d missed the way the trees swayed and the resistance that had tugged and pulled on her skirt from the wind. 

Luckily she could see the greenhouse up ahead of her, the arched glass clouded by the impending storm. Quickening her pace, Clarke hiked up her skirt to try and move faster. 

She was maybe only minutes away from sprinting into it when the clouds broke overhead. 

A crack of thunder split the sky and rain dumped down on her, a curse dropping from her lips as she nearly slipped on the ground. Barely any time later, she reached out and wrenched the door to the greenhouse open. It squeaked open on its hinges and she nearly collapsed as she stepped into its threshold. The air around steamed, the storm and the air outside amplifying the humidity. Her skirt dragged on the ground as she stepped further in, her chest heaving. 

Turning around, she watched as Bellamy’s figure suddenly appeared through the wall of rain. She silently stared as he crossed into the greenhouse with his jacket above him, helplessly attempting to keep himself dry. She could only focus on slowing her breathing down as she looked at him. 

She had run and he had followed her.

He’d chosen to actually follow her.

It was that thought that was branded into her mind as his long strides took him to just in front of her –– closer than he’d ever stood before yet still somehow not close enough.

Each freckle on his face outlined a path for Clarke’s eyes to follow as she searched his face for the answer she hoped for. They led her gaze across his sharp cheekbones, tracing down his jawline to the scar above his lip, leaving her wondering what it would feel like beneath her own lips. If Bellamy minded her brazen staring, he didn’t stop her. He let her be indulgent, greedily taking in the sight of him before her. 

When finally the silence between was teetering on unbearable, filled only with the rumbling of the storm outside, Bellamy’s voice broke through. 

“I need you more than I should,” he said, voice rumbling in his chest. 

A crack of lightning split the sky outside them before plunging them back into the shadows. 

“Isn’t that enough?” She found herself asking. It was startling to hear how husky her voice had become and she felt her face flush at the very sound. “That we both want each other?”

The words had barely left her mouth when his lips descended to hers. Instinctively their arms wrapped around each other as they shared their first kiss together.

It was impossible to get close enough to him. Clarke’s hands twisted into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him, mouth working against his. Each hard plane of his body was in sharp contrast with the softness of hers as she moulded herself to him. The scrape of the wood table behind her through her shirt would have been more distracting if it wasn’t for the way that his fingers equally dug into her sides to keep her tightly pressed to him. 

The gap between them somehow became even narrower as she arched into him, gasping into his mouth as she felt his hardness against her. One of his hands moved at the faint sound and entangled itself into her hair. He tugged just slightly, testing, and a low moan from her was his answer. His fingers tightened as he pulled her head back, before moving from her lips down to her neck. Clarke’s hands felt almost useless, frantically rubbing up and down his back, to his front and then returning. He was pressed too tightly to her for them to dip lower, to feel how much he wanted her. 

She managed to work them under his shirt just as he began to suck on the skin just below her ear, his wet curls tickling at her jawbone. In response her nails scraped down his back.

His groan was guttural against her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

The raging storm around them did nothing to distract them, the rolling thunder disappearing into the background while their closed eyes only saw muted flashes of lightning. The humidity around them continued to rise though. With it and the sweat between them, Clarke’s shirt clung to her chest and back. The feeling of the fabric clinging to her body was elevated alongside the rest of her senses, making her arch further into Bellamy. He took the hint, one hand moving up and grasping her chest. The pressure of his hand, fully encasing her breast, made her moan into their open-mouthed kiss. 

But when her own hand began to wander towards the waistband of his pants, she felt him withdraw. 

“Not here,” he breathed out, “I can’t do that to you here.” 

Bellamy stepped back and she almost like out a whine at his absence. But as he did, she regained her awareness of their surroundings. While the plants shrouded large parts of the greenhouse, its glass walls still were far from being able to mask them. The rain would deter anyone from immediately seeking it out, but the possibility was still too high. Especially if anyone decided to look for them.

So she nodded and the two did their best to adjust themselves.

The walk back to the house was filled with a thick tension. The rain was beginning to dissipate, the thunder now only a distant echo. But not gone was the heavy need for each other. Steam practically rose from the ground due to the humidity and every trickle of sweat down Clarke’s back was a reminder of what they had just done. What they had _almost_ done. She could practically feel the ghost of Bellamy’s hands on her and she craved to know what they would feel like in other places. 

Kane had given them a small reprimand about the dangers of getting ill while caught in a storm for too long, but still had a good laugh at how silly they looked completely drenched.

Which was for the best –– this way he couldn’t tell how close Clarke had been to begging Bellamy to take her on the table in the greenhouse, her sweat disappearing into the water from the rain and the flush of her face attributed to them jogging back inside. 

They’d been separated then to get cleaned up and dried off, Clarke barely catching his last moment turn-around before he’d disappeared into his room. 

She soaked in a long hot bath, washing away the rain water but unable to take away the feeling of what had transpired. A red mark was still fading on her lower back from where she had been pressed into the table and the sight of it made her skin prickle and a warmth spread throughout her. She wanted more marks on her. From objects, from Bellamy. Reminders that she was alive and that this was real.

As she dried off, exchanging her clothes for her nightgown, Clarke wondered if Bellamy would come to her room tonight. It certainly wouldn’t be proper, but they’d already shown they didn’t care about that. Not the way they’d touched each other earlier. 

So she wasn’t nearly as surprised as she was just excited when she heard the knock on her door an hour or so later. Bellamy was leaning against the door frame when she opened it, shyly inviting him in before closing the door behind him.

“This morning after breakfast, your uncle brought up a question to me,” he huffed out before she could even say anything. Clarke’s breath grew shallow in nervousness. There was a glint of something in Bellamy’s eyes, in his expression, that she hadn’t seen yet. 

Possessiveness.

“He asked if I potentially knew of any suitors for you, since it seems like you’re starting to feel better and he wants to make sure you’re happy.” The growl in Bellamy’s voice was unmistakable. 

“And what did you say?”

She knew what she hoped he said. And his presence in her room, a first, was nearly answer enough. But she wanted to hear the words come from him. 

“I told him I would get back to him. Then you came to me, admitting that you felt something for me and I had never felt so stuck before. Because I had thought I was selfish, wanting you when all you had been led to expect was a friendship from me. So I didn’t answer. But after earlier… I know now that I can’t give him a name that isn’t my own.” Bellamy’s words came out in a rush. 

Clarke’s breathing was labored as she listened to him. Overwhelmed by the declaration. 

“I was scared this evening when you spoke to me about it. I know I want you but I have to believe that you fully want me as well, even when you can do so much better than a maid’s son who only ever has his nose stuck in a book,” he swore. “So I have to know before I do anything else with you. Do you want this?” His eyes stared straight into the depths of her being. “Do you truly want this with me?”

It was as if he couldn’t see the man that she saw every day, unable to figure out why she would want him of all people. They’d spent the last few months together practically every day. He’d taught her about history and she’d shown him the world of art. He had listened to her mourn and had echoed his own experiences, while also letting her process her own. The differing in their backgrounds meant nothing to her and she would have been bothered by his hesitant assumption if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew he was doing it to protect himself from getting hurt. 

The feelings she felt for him had gone so far past physical at this point it was almost startling to her that it wasn’t as obvious to him. 

“You’re the only person I could ever want, Bellamy. I need my first time to be with you.” She added on the last part to reinforce the idea to him how much she really wants him. At the widening of his eyes, she knew she’d both surprised and convinced him.

The times before, back in Polis, had never advanced this far. All flings in hidden alleys and bedrooms that couldn’t ever be finished. If the aching that she had felt after those times, with a pretty brunette’s mouth against her own and fingers over petticoats, had left her wanting then this was nearly cataclysmic. His hand brushing against hers in the library had been enough to send tingles through her and now… now she had felt his lips on hers and his hardness against her and she could nearly weep from need.

With her permission now, Bellamy’s frame engulfed her to continue what they had started earlier that day. 

His arms swept her up into him as he gave her a searing kiss. 

It was the passion from the greenhouse but tenfold. They were truly alone now and there was no storm to distract them, no glass to worry about. Here in her bedroom they could truly give into their temptations with each other. 

This time they could be together in a way that would remove that ache Clarke couldn’t get out of her body, ever present until they came together.

Directing her towards the bed without pausing his kissing, Bellamy began to unbutton his shirt. 

But a part of Clarke didn’t want it like this. They could have eternity to be soft in bed, sharing a tenderness for each other. Right now the hunger she felt was too much though. The life that was slowly breathing back into her since that day he had shown up made her want to drive things, take control of these human desires that she would have thought were lost in her forever. 

“Wait,” she rasped, touching his wrist to stop him. It was the slightest of touches but he halted all the same.

His gaze followed the direction of her eyes to the window seat behind them.

Her determined look must have been enough to convince him that she didn’t want her first time to be on the bed. Eyes flashing with the realization, he leaned back down to kiss her again. This was a more bruising pace and one that she kept up with. Gone was the restraint that they had carried with them earlier. Hands groped and charted out each others’ bodies. 

Now it was her turn to edge him in the direction she wanted. They moved across her room until his legs hit the front of the window seat. Finally breaking apart, Clarke gave one slight final push against his chest to have him drop onto it. In most of the brief liaisons she’d had previously she’d taken a step back but Clarke decided that being more in charge was something that she could get used to. 

A look of approval crossed through Bellamy’s eyes. He was excited that she knew what she wanted, what would feel best for her this first time. That in turn sent a heady rush through her own body. 

Hiking up her nightgown, Clarke straddled Bellamy on the seat. 

She was thankful for the depth of the seat, with Bellamy’s wide frame taking up most of it but still giving her a place to balance herself. Not that she could focus on it much once she had settled herself on top of him. From here, his hands immediately returned to her body. Exploring and mapping every curve with his long fingers, squeezing at the fleshier parts and giving her a rush of pride of areas she’d once poked and prodded with disdain. Here in this moment, they were cherished and she felt the feeling consume her. With a sigh of pleasure, she ground down onto Bellamy as she leaned in to kiss him. Earlier in the greenhouse, she thought she’d been able to feel him against her. But now with him in the soft fabric of his nightclothes, she was keenly aware that _now_ she could feel him. And not for the first time, she thought about the size of him.

A hand wove its way from her side, pushing up underneath the excess fabric of her nightgown to find the place she’d longed for him to touch earlier. A brush of his thumb, more with the intent to locate than to immediately pleasure, still drew a whimper from lips. Bellamy smirked into the kiss, retracing his steps with a more urgent pressure. 

She almost didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her throat, her body wiggling with each flick of his thumb. 

When the movement became more consistent and she realized what he was trying to do, she quickly reached down to pause his hand.

“Not like that,” she hummed into his ear before kissing down along his stubble. “I want to finish with you inside me.” 

That was all Bellamy needed to hear apparently, as he helped ease her off of him so that they could remove their clothes.

Thankful to be rid of her normal attire and in a simple nightgown, Clarke all but yanked it off of her body. In the meantime, while her vision was blocked by the gauzy white fabric, Bellamy took the time to scramble out of his pajamas. They were both such a disheveled mess once they were finally naked, they couldn’t help but giggle at each other. The moment of giddiness quickly fell back into desire though as their eyes drank in the sight of the other. 

As if in slow motion, Bellamy returned to sitting on the window seat. And this time as Clarke straddled him, the heat of his body against hers was roaring with life without fabric in the way. Her hands fell onto his bare shoulders as she swung a leg onto the other side of him, looking down. 

She couldn’t tell what her facial expression was but it made Bellamy chuckle, nosing against her cheekbone and whispering words of encouragement. He knew she could take him, that she could take all of him.

With a deep breath, Clarke lowered himself onto him. 

She felt, more than heard, the rumble of a moan escaping from Bellamy as he slid deeper into her, the stretch of her adjusting around him adding to the tightness coiling up inside her. For a moment they both paused: Bellamy as he waited for her to settle onto him and Clarke for her body to adapt to him finally being inside her. 

Their breath mingled together as she painstakingly swiveled her hips as a test, foreheads pressed together. Bellamy remained still with the tightening of his grip the only indication of the pleasure she had spiked within him. While there was an accompanying burn to the movement, she still knew she was ready.

With a nod at his questioning gaze, Clarke pulled her body up slightly before beginning to ride him. At that point, she lost coherent thought as he returned the gesture, the two of them working together to move their bodies. 

Her hands slid against the window beside Bellamy’s head as she scrambled for a hold of something, anything, as he thrust into her. The slower pace they had started with had devolved into a more frantic, aggressive rhythm as they both began to reach completion. 

As her hand slipped once more, Bellamy tore his own hands from where he had been encasing her breasts to ensnare her wrists. Before she could process what he was doing, too distracted by the deep pressure of him inside her, Bellamy pulled her arms behind her and clasped her wrists together with one of his hands. The gentle pull in her shoulders, mixed with the knowledge that he could hold both of her wrists with just one hand, made her head fall back with a breathy whine. 

At one point her eyes blinked open and she saw her reflection in the window against the glass and the cloudy night sky. Even though it was faint, with only a few lights dimly lit in her room, it only heightened the flush that spread from cheeks to the top of her chest. There was a wantonness to her appearance that was startling and she looked alive, eyes bright and a sheen atop her skin. 

Her distraction was only temporary as Bellamy’s thumb returned down to where their bodies met. Eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head, Clarke felt her movements lose their sense of rhythm as the high her body had been building towards began to hurtle closer. 

As her orgasm took over, a wave of pleasure crashed through her and it was a good thing that Kane’s room was so far from hers as she let out a loud cry of Bellamy’s name. At the sound of his name like a prayer on her lips, Bellamy held her tightly as he finished with his head cradled in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

The sensations rolled through them and they let themselves catch their breath in the silence of her room. The dim light outlined his cheekbones in a soft golden glow and she shakingly brought her hand up to trace it. Eventually though as he softened in her and a dull ache began to make itself known in her hips, she knew it was time to separate. Gingerly getting up, she was pleased to discover that she wasn’t in overall pain though – a fear she’d had from other girls’ stories in school. Bellamy had taken good care of her. 

Clarke sat down on the edge of her bed to put on the nightgown again, not trusting herself to stay standing for long. But when the fabric was past her eyes, she was surprised to see that it looked like Bellamy was getting ready to leave as he began to button up his nightshirt. She didn’t want him to leave. Not after what just happened. 

She quickly reached out and caught his hand with hers.

“Stay. Please,” she whispered, looking at him. There was always the possibility of this not meaning as much to him as it did to her, but she doubted that to the very core and the way his expression softened as he gazed at her told her as such. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had internally been worried that she’d want him to leave. That they shared the same fear the other didn’t want more than just tonight. 

He stepped forward in between her legs. Gently, he leaned down and placed a kiss to her forehead, hesitating before completely removing his lips. Her eyes closed briefly at the touch, a relaxed smile forming on her face. The move was so natural that it was hard to believe that this was their first night together. 

Bellamy eased into the bed and she followed suit. As if he knew exactly what she craved, he opened up his arms wide and she snuggled into his chest. He brought his arm back around her shoulder, fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she felt her breath sync with the rising and falling of his chest. Where the heat of his body earlier had ignited a deep passion within her, it now settled her racing heartbeat and made her feel safe. She would find a way to talk to Kane tomorrow about Bellamy. Even if Bellamy wasn’t what he originally had in mind for her when he thought about finding a potential suitor, she had a feeling that he would be happy for them. And hopefully he’d help get Bellamy to stop worrying about their differences in their backgrounds when it so clearly didn’t matter.

The ruins of her past life seemed so far now, but there was a realization that came with that thought that they had been for a while now. She just hadn’t noticed her progress up until tonight. Her passion returning in full had simply been a culmination of the last few months of her becoming stronger each day. Coming out to Arkadia had been for the best, a step away from all of the despair so that she could rebuild herself. And she had, with some extra help along the way. 

Clarke began to succumb to sleep, her head still on Bellamy’s chest and a small smile on her face. She had a feeling that this would be the best sleep she’d had in a while. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


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